


Stitches

by giraffles



Category: Black Jack (Anime & Manga)
Genre: M/M, Medical Inaccuracies, Medical Trauma, Minor Character(s), cursing, medical bullshitting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-28
Updated: 2013-12-28
Packaged: 2018-01-06 11:19:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1106196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/giraffles/pseuds/giraffles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Of bank heists, of bullet wounds, and the bad language that follows. Violence, medical drama, abuse of every curse word in the book, slightly ooc? (Old work, cross-posted)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stitches

"Fuck!"

"For the love of- Hold _still,_ damn it!"

"This. Is. All. Your. Fault." Kiriko hissed through gritted teeth.

"No, it's my fault." Michelle was on the brink of tears beside him, holding on to his desperate hand. "If I hadn't insisted on meeting you here-"

"The only ones to blame are the ones with the guns." Black Jack snapped at the both of them before glaring at the bank robbers who were guarding the hostages. "Although, jumping in the line of fire probably wasn't the best idea."

"Fuck you."

Apparently when Kiriko was bleeding out from multiple bullet wounds he found a new favorite word.

Three bullet wounds, to be exact, with no exit points. One in his right shoulder and two below in his chest. The shoulder would be easy-

-but Kiriko was coughing up more blood, and struggling to draw breath. At least one of the bullets must have torn in to his right lung. This was bad, but Black Jack could've fixed it if he still had his medical bag. Of course the bank robbers had taken it thinking there was something of value in it. They refused to return the bag, telling him to 'make do with what he had'.

And that was just what he was going to do.

The hostages had been gathered in to an office of sorts, with rows of neat cubicles and desks with computers, and therefore that meant office supplies. Not ideal but there wasn't much of an alternative.

"Anyone have a blade? Swiss army, pen knife, exacto- I don't care as long at it'll cut."

Of course the majority of the other people in the room stared at him with the look of deer in headlights. No one made any motion to help and Black Jack let out an exasperated sigh. This happened every time.

"Will someone just get a fucking knife already?" Kiriko snarled, and that got people rummaging around in rummaging around in drawers and cabinets. He fell back, eyes closed and chest heaving.

"I also need rubbing alcohol, a lighter, superglue, binder clips, towels or something similar, bottled water if you have it and a sewing kit if you can find it."

"Superglue…?" Michelle said doubtfully. "You're not seriously going to put that in him."

"I will if you want him to keep breathing."

"There's a first aid kit!" a searching employee waved a white and red plastic box.

"What does it have in it?"

"Umm, band-aids, antibiotic gel, more band-aids, and an eye patch."

Well that wasn't helpful. He couldn't very well tape this mess together with band-aids. "…Toss the gel over. I might be able to do something with it. Someone grab a pen and take it apart. I need the hollow casing."

"Black Jack!" Michelle's hysterical shriek brought his attention back to Kiriko, who had stopped breathing altogether and was starting to turn blue. Looks like he needed that pen casing sooner than later.

Thankfully, the captive bank employees were able to bring Black Jack almost everything he asked for. No one had a mini sewing kit on hand, but he could make do without it. That's what staplers were for.

Taking the now disassembled pen, he dunked in the bottle of alcohol that someone managed to produce, then drove it in to the injured man's chest. Michelle gave a little startled squeak at this, obviously not expecting it.

"Pneumothorax. His lung collapsed." He sighed in relief when Kiriko started coughing and gasping. He was paler than before, but at least he wasn't blue. Shit. The blood was beginning to pool into the carpet, and Black Jack had no equipment for a transfusion.

"Damn it. Michelle, mop up as much blood as you can. And you two," he gestured towards a pair of bank workers who had been sulking off to the side. "Come hold him down. _Now_." Something about the way Black Jack said it caused the men to help without hesitation. It was probably the 'if you don't do it I'll make you regret you where ever born' tone of voice he used.

The blade he was forced to use was a box cutter. Blunt and shallow. He soaked it in alcohol too and ran the flame of the lighter over the edge to make double sure. The risk of infection was still ridiculously high in the current environment, and even if it was worthless at least he was making an effort to prevent it.

"…I'm not going to lie, this is going to hurt like hell."

Black Jack had never hesitated up to this point. But before he wasn't looking straight in to that dull blue gaze that held the power to pull him apart so completely.

"Oh, fuck it all." Kiriko screwed his eyes shut and turned his head away. "Just fucking do it already!"

He was surprisingly quiet in the beginning, and then dissolved in to growling and expletives as he tried not to thrash around while Black Jack extracted the first bullet from his shoulder.

"I…hate…you…"

"I know." Black Jack replied as he super glued blood vessels back together. "Michelle. Apply pressure here, and don't be afraid to use as much force as you're able."

"Ahhg! Asshole!"

Moving on to the other bullet wounds was a different story. He didn't have any sedatives or pain killers, so he had no way of keeping Kiriko from _screaming_ as he literally had to tear through skin and muscles to locate the metal projectiles. Some of the hostages where losing their lunches behind them, and even the guards where looking like they were about to get sick. Served them right. Through the creative use of office supplies Black Jack managed to remove the remaining bullets and patch up the damage done as best he could, all within the hour of the initial bank heist.

"Is he going to be alright?" Michelle asked worriedly from beside him. Kiriko was now barely conscious and showing signs of going in to shock.

"…not unless we get him to a hospital." He retrieved his black overcoat and draped it over Kiriko, who was again having trouble just trying to breath. Shit. He hated being so helpless now that he was at the point of doing all that he could. Kiriko could die, right here and right now, and he couldn't do a damn thing about it and Black Jack _hated_ the feeling of being so uselessly human.

"C'mon, stay with me." Black Jack was pushing back the pale strands that clouded his face, trying to keep him at least semiconscious lest he became totally unresponsive.

"...fucking hurts." Came the soft whimper of pain. Black Jack slipped his own hand where Michelle's used to be, and Kiriko weakly clung back.

"I know, I'm sorry."

Shit shit _shit_.

:::

:::

_I mean that loving you is strange,_

_And adored by me throughout_

_Tying yourself to me_

_Stitch up my emptiness_

' _Cause you're the death of me_

:::

:::

"I hate you."

"I know." And he knows Kiriko doesn't mean it, at least not all the time. Although right now he's glaring at Black Jack from across the room, tied down with bandages and IVs. He doesn't realize how close he came to never coming back. Probably because he's nearly crossed that line so many times before.

"Can't I leave yet?"

"Nope."

"I fucking hate you."

"You're a _doctor,_ for crying out loud." Black Jack rolled his eyes. "You should know better than that!"

"I can take care of myself." Kiriko grumbled as he sank back on the bed. "And I don't like hospitals."

Such a stupid, stubborn bastard- Wait, what now?

"Don't give me that look. There's nothing saying I have to like it here."

"Then how the hell did you get through med school?"

He shrugged, or as much as he could manage with a taped up shoulder. "I mean, it wasn't that bad before-" He froze suddenly and went quiet.

"Before…?"

He mumbled something that sounded a lot like a 'fuck off'. Obviously, whatever he had accidently referenced was still a sore subject.

Like that was going to stop Black Jack from finding out exactly what he was talking about.

A quick check to make sure no one was looking, (although who would be wandering the halls at this hour was beyond him) and he was on the bed next to Kiriko, who squirmed at his close proximity.

"Tell me."

"Why should I?" he snapped back.

"Because I'm asking you before I go to your sister."

His eyes widened. "You _wouldn't._ "

"Try me."

"Fucking _hell_." For someone who claimed to be gentleman, he sure was fluent in French. Which was funny you know, because they were in a French hospital. Aha. "Because, you asshole, I got sick and tired of waiting by bedsides as most of my immediate family wasted away to nothing and died, barely even knowing who I was. So I don't like hospitals. Happy?"

"…Not really."

Kiriko was quietly fuming now and Black Jack wasn't quite sure what to say next. He hadn't meant to upset him. But it seemed like the two of them where good at pissing each other off, especially after particularly nerve fraying encounters.

"I didn't-"

"Just forget about it, okay?" he was interrupted abruptly. "It doesn't matter anyway."

Black Jack had half a mind to argue with him, because it _does_ matter, but it was clear it that an argument wouldn't amount to much at the moment. So he dropped the matter, and he would save the battle for another day when things weren't teetering on the edge of falling apart.

He pressed against Kiriko, leaning against his good shoulder in silent apology. For most people that wouldn't have been enough, but then again, it's not like they where a shining example of what 'most people' where like. Gradually he felt the angry tension unwind from the other and replace itself with a reluctant acceptance.

"…is Michelle okay?"

"If by 'okay' you mean crying her eyes out in the lobby and insisting on paying your medical bills, then sure, she's doing great."

There was an amused chuckle from beside him that rapidly dissolved in to a breathy gasp of pain. "Goddamn, having a hole in your lung fucking sucks."

"Stitches, actually." Black Jack corrected. Stitches now, instead of a bullet-torn diaphragm threatening stop working at any given moment and end this worldly existence. Stitches, that bound up not just the broken lines but the broken people who wore them.

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted on ff.net under my other account, on Feb. 2nd, 2011. Which means it's old as _hell_ , so forgive the typos and the general sub-par-ness. But it's a short little thing that I spent a lot of time on and people seemed to enjoy it, so here it is!
> 
> Lyrics are from Blacklab's "Stitches" because my music tastes are bizarre.


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